#The Sickest Date
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pony-central · 8 months ago
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Results of Poll - Looks like Part 8 won. 😊
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Hmm, interesting.
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slasheru · 2 years ago
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COME PLAY MY SEXY LGBTQIA+ HORROR MOVIE DATING SIM RPG MY LORD
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televisionenjoyer · 9 months ago
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god works in mysterious ways the art director caught dengue...
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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 1 year ago
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𝔇𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 - 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔖𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔰 ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔗𝔬 𝔇𝔦𝔢
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sar3nka · 2 years ago
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I'd have the craziest body mods if only the world wasn't so pressed about it
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meatshowers · 5 months ago
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This is Phoenix. Because he almost died one time.
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parfaitblogs · 4 months ago
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guess ❀ s. reid x reader
in which spencer really likes changing the way in which he wakes you up. 
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: smut (18+ mdni) tags: soft dom!spencer. oral (f receiving). spencer bought the underwear r is reading (it's described). very brief nipple stuff bc i hate writing that word xoxo. healthy sex discussion midway through!! communication yippee!! desired somnophilia (it doesn't actually happen). fingering. spencer's a little shit (who's surprised). not proofread!  word count: 2.5k a/n: the lacy black pair with the little bows 💃💃 the ones i picked out for you in tokyo 💃💃💃imagining s13 spencer specifically in that episode he has his firearms exam. u know the one mhm mhm! 
You were indescribably pretty, in Spencer Reid's very professional opinion.
In every form. Even your sickest, most disgusting form — according to you — when you had gastroenteritis that one time after being away on holiday. You were pretty when you dressed up for a date with him or drinks with your friends. When you had just gotten out of the shower and had wet hair and were wearing your pyjamas (either being a matching set or one of his stolen t-shirts). And, his most recent obsession; while you were sleeping. 
Which might be sick in some way shape or form. How much he liked watching you while you slept. The rise and fall of your chest, the blankets bunched up and falling just below your hips — showing the skin of your legs, because the weather was warm and Spencer's apartment was always warmer. 
Yes, it probably is sick. But it's not like he did anything about it. In fact, he usually just watched you until the clock ticked to a time he deemed unreasonable to still be in bed, and he got up and went on about his day (thinking about you the entire time, of course). 
But it was a Sunday, and you had made him promise to be there when you woke up that morning; too sick of finding him out in the kitchen already showered and making food. When all you wanted was to lie in bed for — at least — an hour with him before your days began. 
Your rule was probably the only reason Spencer's mind wandered away from their usual thoughts about you in the morning. But he also wanted to blame it on the fact that your hair was freshly washed and his sheets now smelled of your shampoo, and your legs brushed against his own so many times he thought you might be awake already. 
You were just so, so pretty. And his shirt on you had risen just the right amount, your stomach peeking through, and really, Spencer should not be held accountable for any of his actions that morning. He was but a man, at the end of the day. 
Despite everything he wanted to do to you, he was still a gentleman, and this was a boundary of consent you were yet to cross together. Hence; the arm snaking around your waist, pulling you into him, and the kisses he had begun leaving along your cheek, jawline and neck, hoping to coax you awake, gently. 
Hope that had been answered, because he heard you groan quietly beneath him — the sound, embarrassingly so, shooting straight to the pit of his stomach like he was a teenager. But you were awake. 
"Good morning to you too," you had murmured, voice riddled with morning husk and a layer of exhaustion no doubt still there. 
"Morning, honey," he answered, lifting his face from your neck to your own face, lips twitching a little as you blinked your eyes open. He was quick with it, connecting his lips to yours and eliciting a quiet squeak from you, which simply had him smiling. 
"I have morning breath," you said, though both of you knew he could not care less. He never did, which was almost laughable for a man with such a big phobia of germs. 
"I'll need to brush my teeth after this too, anyways," he had replied, and your stomach flipped in the best way possible. 
"What's this?" 
"Hopefully," he began, placing one last peck to the corner of your mouth, before he shifted your bodies enough so he could trail kisses down to your peeking collarbone. "You'll like it."
"Promise?" you asked him as he hooked fingers beneath his t-shirt, eyes searching yours for approval, before he pushed it up and over your chest.
"Promise," he said with a confirming hum, trailing kisses down your sternum, before kissing back up and taking a nipple into his mouth. 
He decided he liked you like this; still waking up, too out of it to properly silence yourself the way he knew you would if you were in any fully conscious state of mind. It was arguably his least favourite trait of yours — how much you hid when all he wanted was to hear every little noise you made (a thought that shocked him too, the first time he thought it). 
But your back arched and barely functioning limbs pressed down against the mattress when you mewled, and it was beautiful and he was repeating the motion of his tongue flicking over your nipple once, then twice, just to hear it again. 
He smiled at your breathless whimper of his name when he detached his mouth, a hand dropping to your hip and rubbing gentle circles into it. 
"So impatient when you're tired," he murmured, almost scoldingly, gaze flickering up to catch your expression. Not that there was much to look at — you were watching him through half-shut eyelids, lips pulled into a content smile. He moved his head to take the other nipple into his mouth. Goosebumps rose on your skin, and so he comforted the other (now neglected) peak with his thumb. 
But, he was a man on a mission. And so despite how much he wanted to tease you, he had other, far more exciting plans for you. 
Lips kissed down your stomach, stubble scratching delicately at your skin, making you squirm and evoking a hum from Spencer, who glanced up at you with an arched brow. 
"Stubble," you explained, almost breathlessly, and his lips pulled into a smile in acknowledgement. Which was sweet. 
What wasn't sweet was the way he grasped your hips between his hands and pushed them into the mattress and said, in his (incredibly arousing) low voice, "Need you to keep still for me."
"You don't want my hips punching you in the face?" you asked. He laughed at that — it had happened one time. 
"If I can help it, no," he punctuated his sentence with his fingers squeezing your left hip, and you only hummed in response. Then, "Aren't these the ones I bought for you?"
You looked down, and his fingers were hooked under the waistband of your underwear, black bows resting on either side and flipped up on his fingers. 
"Uh... yeah. I must've put them on by mistake last night," you told him, and his eyebrows only rose. "What?"
"By mistake?" he mused, one of his hands letting go of the waistband to trace his knuckle across the top and down over the centre of them, eliciting a shudder out of your lips. 
"I haven't done laundry?" you offered your second excuse. His bewilderment only deepened and he pulled his hand away from you.
"You wanna tell me the truth?"
Damn him. "Okay, so, I was planning on trying to do something with you last night. I did an everything shower and everything," very complex sentences you were creating, clearly. "But then I fell asleep."
"I see," he said, and amusement crossed his features. 
"I wear them all the time!" you protested. "They're comfortable. Also they're really pretty. You would know if you tried to have sex with me more often."
He laughed, only because he could see the faux pout on your lips, and he knew you weren't serious. "I already have sex with you a lot."
"Twice a week isn't a lot."
"I'd argue it is," he said, placing a kiss to the inner side of your thigh — the recognition of what position you two were in whilst having this conversation being somewhat jarring, but mostly humorous. "Do you want me to have sex with you more often?"
"If I say yes, will you?"
"I'll do whatever you want me to," he answered, hair tickling your skin as he tilted his head to the side, resting it on your thigh. 
"Then yes," you breathed out. 
"Okay," he nodded his head, picking it back up to refocus on his task at hand. "Can I take this underwear that you apparently wear all the time off now?"
"Yeah."
Even in the warmth of his apartment, you shivered when he tugged the black lace down — with some resistance he no doubt expected, but still reacted to with a barely audible hiss. You smiled at that.
"So pretty," he murmured, like it was the first time he was ever seeing you. 
He met your eyes one last time, and you watched that stupidly gorgeous smile stretch across his lips, before he was leaning forwards and licking a stripe down the centre, eliciting a breathy whine from your lips. 
He was painfully good at this — a fact that popped into your head every single time he had his mouth on you. You wondered if he was simply born with the knowledge of your body already catalogued in his brain, because even the first time he ate you out, you were immobile for thirty minutes (though, he did make you come four times at once, so maybe it was that). 
"Angel," you felt a nip on your thigh, and your head snapped down, eyebrows furrowing when you met Spencer's gaze. "Focus on me."
"I am," you huffed in response.
"Really?"
In theory, yes. You were thinking about him. Just a distant, past him. 
"Am I boring you already?" 
"Maybe. You might wanna speed up," you replied, always taking the opportunity to have some form of attitude towards him. 
"I miss when you were half-asleep," he sighed, but he gave you what you wanted regardless. 
Lips attached to your clit and his tongue flicked over it, and any retort you had died on your tongue. He liked to shut you up this way, it seemed. Hands that were still holding your hips pushed you into the mattress instinctively, having premeditated the bucking of them. A whimper escaped you when he sucked, head pressing down into the pillow beneath it, and you could feel the muscles of his face move as he smiled against you. 
He always ate you out like he was starved, and if you didn't know better, you'd think he was. He was almost pathetically down bad for you when he was horny, though, and even if you were promising him pleasure, his mouth would find its way to you no matter what. Something about being a service dom or whatever. He had told you about it one time while he was knuckle deep in you, and you clearly didn't retain much in that state. 
"Oh," you breathed out when he dropped his head lower, his tongue circling your entrance, nose bumping your clit. 
You could feel his eyes on you when he flattened his tongue, watching every micro expression you made. 
Now, Spencer Reid was never smug about his knowledge. All those memories and his ability to quote just about anything at the drop of a hat and he never bragged about it. But knowing you? That he could brag about for hours and then some. Because truly, he knew you.
He knew he could make you come just like this; obscenely eating you out. In fact, it was quite easy to. But he found no fun in giving you what you were expecting. It was the only reason he was returning his lips to your clit, a hand dropping down from your hip, sliding over the skin of your thigh, before brushing through your folds, teasingly. 
"Spencer."
He repeated your name in the same whiny tone of voice as your own, mockingly so, and if you weren't so hellbent on reaching an orgasm, you probably would've kicked him.
A finger pushed into you embarrassingly easily, and you moaned, louder than you had yet that morning, which he knew. 
Indecent sounds left your lips continuously, and you eventually stopped fighting them. Much to his satisfaction, clearly, because he had curled his finger in just the right way at the same time he sucked on your clit and you were crying out and hands that had otherwise been heavy on the mattress were flying to his hair. 
You felt and heard him laugh at your reaction, only for him to do it again before you could argue. 
"Fuck, Spencer." 
"I know," he said, lifting his eyes back up to meet yours, twisting his finger and flicking his tongue over your clit. "Taste so good, angel. Could stay here for hours, you know?" You did know. He probably would, unless you had a mass protest to hold. 
"Please," you gasped out, pathetically so.
"Please what?" he mused. 
You opened your mouth to respond, but he chose that exact moment to push another finger into you, cutting any sentences you had off with a moan. 
"You've gotta use your words, sweet girl." You shot a glare at him, and he barked out a laugh. "Okay, okay. Sorry."
He was sorry, because he resumed his ministrations without so much of a delay, both fingers pushing in and out of you, filling the air with vulgar wet sounds to accompany your gasps and moans. 
You moaned his name again, and he mumbled another gentle, "Yeah?"
"Wanna come," you said.
"I know," he said, voice oh so soft, juxtaposing his every action. "Are you asking me or telling me?"
"Telling," you replied, almost huffily, and he laughed, increasing the pace of his fingers only slightly. 
"You don't wanna ask me?"
"Do I need to?"
"Maybe you should start."
"Spencer."
He laughed again, and you felt him nod his head against you. "Okay, okay. Making you come. Relax, sweet girl."
Arguably, you were the most relaxed you could possibly be. But you no longer had enough fight in you to argue, because he was rutting the tips of his fingers up against that spot inside you, and his tongue was moving faster, and you were gone; seeing stars. 
Maybe one thing he loved more than eating you out, was making you orgasm from eating you out. The way your fingers that almost always ended up in his hair scratched at his scalp, your thighs clenching around his head just enough that he had an excuse to pin them open, your voice going breathless and high-pitched. He had watched and felt it happen so many times it was burned into his memory, and yet he was still in awe of you regardless. 
Coaxing you through it and teetering on the edge of overstimulation was another bonus, because your breathless moans turned into whines and you always, always tried to escape him, and he got to remind you how much stronger he was, arms hooking under your thighs and tugging you closer. 
"Spencer," you whimpered. "No more. Please."
That was his cue to stop, and he pulled back, lips upturned in a lovesick grin as he looked up at you, face glistening. 
He pecked up your body until he had reached your face, and then he was kissing you again, regardless of the remnants of your release covering his skin. 
"Did so good. You're always so perfect for me, sweet girl," he murmured against your lips, swallowing your quiet whines. 
"Love you," you managed to mumble out, and he smiled against the cheek he was now kissing. 
"Love you too."
your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ♡
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queenie-avenue · 1 year ago
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Don't run. He'll catch you anyway.
💌 ⤻ THE ACADEMIC RIVAL, SEO MIN-JUN
—> what happens when you try to escape him?
⤻ reader is gender neutral, dark themes, invasion of privacy, taking photos without consent, bullying, manipulation, slightly suggestive themes, typical yandere red flagginess (duh), min-jun is just a freak honestly, not too detailed but a small fic, besides straight up gore I think this is the darkest thing I've ever written
notes: @moyazami , i am so sorry, but i lost your ask. thank god, i took a screenshot before i deleted it. you are such a sweetheart. thank you for the ask, and keep them coming! i want to do the first imagine, but don't worry, i'll also do the second one at a later date! honestly wasn't sure to write out the part where he approaches you again but if anyone wants it, drop a ask, honestly-
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The fact that you left was laughable to Min-Jun.
At first, he was shocked that you had actually left, and the reason was clearly because of him. Second, he was sad knowing he was the reason he would not see you anymore. Third, he was angry that you had left him. Who gave you permission to leave? Certainly not him.
Fourth, he projected that anger into scheming.
Sure, you left for another school. However, did you forget? Min-Jun's entire family was rather influential, perhaps not as much as the Samsung family in Korea, but certainly able to pull a few strings here and there. His entire family was full of ministers, civil workers, and some even celebrities with the power to topple the entertainment industry. Did you really think that transferring to another school would allow you to run from his grasp?
"Are you that idiotic?" He whispered under his breath as he schemed.
You leaving the academy was like inciting war and he was going to bring out the full arsenal to pull you back into his arms.
He would hire a private detective to comb through every aspect of your life; relishing in the intimate information the detective would give him. He honestly felt a bit bad about spreading it. Not because he worried for you, but because he wanted to keep all these secrets to himself, claiming ownership of you and every thought you had in the sickest manner. Still, he supposed he could part with this knowledge. After all, when he got you back, he'd be able to learn more about you.
As said before, rumours spread like wildfire. A simple strike of a match is all he needed to turn into a massacre.
Soon, not only people from your school but from your neighbourhood began to whisper about you behind your back. They talked about your nature, some even going as far as coming up with fake rumours about you just to entertain the masses.
It was hell on earth for you. Worse than when Min-Jun tormented you.
Then, it was only one person — a boy whom you had no idea was your academic rival — but now, it was your entire community that had turned against you.
It got worse when pictures of you leaked. How had someone managed to take so many pictures of you like that?
Some immature students even stapled your embarrassing moments to the school board, leaving you to clean them up during lunchtime.
Min-Jun had some friends in that new school you went to, so of course, he heard everything that happened to you. His poor rival, you must be so hurt by all the things happening to you!
Serves you right for leaving me, Min-Jun thought as he looked at the photos of you crying when you thought nobody was looking.
Just a bit more, and he would intervene. He wanted you to feel the pain he felt when you left him. Maybe about a week more, and he would come to your rescue one of these days.
For now, he would enjoy the delicious tears that streamed down your adorable cheeks.
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pony-central · 9 months ago
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Be sure to go to Benjamin's YouTube channel (simply called Boyfriend) to watch each individual part before voting.
Votes end on Friday.
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chuusters05 · 5 months ago
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imagine💞
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Leon wanted to impress you desperately, so he came to the conclusion that the most sickest thing in the history of mankind was to do a backflip.
He believed this backflip would win your heart in an instant!
“y/n! look what I can do!” before you open your mouth, he does a backflip. But, as he hit the ground, he broke his neck and had to go to the hospital. Because of this injury, they felt he could no longer be an agent out rescuing people.
So, they sent him back to the PD where he spent the rest of his life giving people speeding tickets and guarding Walmarts, making sure no one shoplifted anything.
This incident infact did not win your heart, and you ended up dating that one robot from 2001 A Space Odyssey
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baby-tini · 4 months ago
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Ok so, Idk what time it is at you, but for me it is 23:30 and I am at the limit(in my case, if in your country the limit has been reached, then feel free to ignore this)
Ok so(not me speedrunning this), my request) may I request a yandere toman, bonten and kanto mikey with a darling that rejected him for the simple fact that their zodiac signs werent compatible? Tsm for reading my request
TW- Kidnapping
Toman!Mikey- He's a little thrown off in the moment, he doesn't really understand what you're talking about, while he's aware of what zodiac sighs are, his younger sister having been obsessed with them and always giving him un-asked for readings of his chart. He really can't believe that you're rejecting him simply based off the fact that he's a leo... or that apparently your zodiac signs aren't compatible together. He's honestly just standing there in disbelief as you just stand and stare at him, seeming confused at his genuine bewilderment. Nonetheless, he'd let you go there and then, but be too surprised when you get a little surprise at your front door late at night as he saunters in, taking you away with him.
Kanto!Mikey- Doesn't really know what the hell you're talking about at first, he originally thought you were saying that he wasn't your type, which just pissed him off furthermore. He doesn't let you hold the conversation for too long before you're surrounded by men and he's leading them, and you, to a car that pulled up after he gave one of his men a look. You're put into a van of sorts, eyes covered by a blindfold and wrists tied. The floor of the van cold and dirty, smelling of copper and death, the ride felt longer then it actually was, but when you were picked up and carried for what felt like hours, finally able too see, you were no longer in the van but in a room. Dropped onto a plush bed as you watched the man known as "Mikey" leave, his last words haunting, seeing your stay for the near future.
Bonten!Mikey- Is just blank for a bit before he blinks at you, his head tilting in honest confusion, that is the stupidest reason he's ever heard for rejection, and he's anything but pleased. Your seriously not gonna date him because the stars don't align for the two of you too be compatible romantically. Similar to Kanto!Mikey, he doesn't let you spew this sillines for a long time, clocking it as soon as you start too blabber about how you'd be more companionable if he were too be another sign, because it's annoying him. So, while you don't know the pink-haired man that clasps his hand around your mouth, he just smells of danger and you're more then weary, immediately thrashing as you're picked up and carried away, two men with lilac hair emerging from the shadows like predators, with the sickest grins on their face. Quickly shooting your eyes back over to the short white-haired man being referred to as "Boss." His big black eyes starring through you as the wind blew through his short white hair, his pale skin akin to a ghost as he directs the men too put you in the pretty black car.
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k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9 · 1 year ago
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𝔇𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 - 𝔉𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 ℜ𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱
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syscest · 4 days ago
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insys dating and how different everyone’s moans are.. this body is a soundboard and I am a DJ about to drop the sickest beat
the implied strategy of hooking up with a system and constantly pushing their front around is both conceptually hilarious and a great mental image, call me?
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acewithapaintbrush · 4 days ago
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I don't know why but "If you're freaked out by that, don't worry, we are professionals and this is a radio scanner" feels like Shane's sickest burn to date!
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hardcore-solangelo-19 · 1 year ago
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”If MK’s brain drove a cool car, I’d date it”
if mkulia aint happening this season, the writers have got to be the absolute sickest trolls ever istg. Like- you’d date the “brain” of a person, then justify it by saying “its cuz it drives a cool car”, girl youre falling harder than zeeke at the end of world tour.
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moonchildreads · 3 months ago
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small town
Chapter 26 - The Heart of Rock & Roll
IN THIS CHAPTER: Odd meetings, sudden realizations, and Dottie goes metal [14.1k]
WARNINGS: toxic friendships (not related to the Corroded Coffin boys, they are the best), technically underaged drinking, angst w/comfort, one (1) queer panic moment, author talking shit about Anthrax (the band, not the disease)
A/N: next chapter will start getting more into the mysteries of hawkins so enjoy our final beach episode type of chapter <3 also please let me know if you wanna added to the taglist! HUGE shoutout to my beloved @gutterratt who helped me put together the setlist - i love you always, and i wish i was drinking chocolate milk with you while talking shit about college.
masterlist - prev - next | main playlist - chapter playlist
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They say the heart of rock and roll is still beating And from what I’ve seen I believe ‘em
Friday, June 27th - 1986
“Hey rockstar, come on in!”
Eddie Munson was pretty sure he was never going to be a rockstar. He had discussed this recently with his best friends after an intense practice session and all four of them agreed that this had been fun while it lasted, but it wasn’t something they could realistically pursue long term. Jeff was getting ready to leave for college in West Virginia, Gareth was trading in his plaid sleeveless vest for a suit and jazz music sheets, and Donny was much more interested in perfecting his family tiramisù recipe than to keep shredding his fingers by learning new bass arrangements on a monthly basis. Eddie had had a long time to think about his priorities and hopes for the future, but the proud look on Wayne’s face upon seeing his nephew’s first weekly paycheck stuck to the fridge by an old magnet was enough to cement his decision.
No, Eddie Munson was never going to be a rockstar, but that didn’t mean Corroded Coffin had to hang up their towels just yet. They were still squarely in the middle of Summer when the long awaited muggy and rainy Friday that was poised to be their biggest show to date, if not perhaps the biggest show they’d ever play, finally arrived. All in all, the members of Hawkins’ most misunderstood and badass band felt like they’d gotten their cake and were about to eat it too.
“Nice outfit,” James said, a heavy hand coming to pat Eddie’s back while he closed the door behind him. “Was expecting leather pants to be honest, but this looks great.”
“It’s too hot for leather, sir,” Eddie laughed as he hoisted his bursting backpack up his shoulder. “Maybe next time.”
“I’ll hold you to it,” the older man craned his head towards the stairs. “Honey? Eddie’s here!”
“I know!” came Dottie’s faint voice from the upper floor. “Tell him to come up, I’m not finished yet!”
“She’s already done her makeup three times,” James confided in the younger man. “Maybe you can convince her to stop messing with it.”
“I’ll try my best,” he said, saluting him before climbing up the stairs towards his girlfriend’s bedroom two steps at a time.
Eddie slowly pushed the door open to find Dottie at her desk, still wearing her cotton pajamas with a cute duck print and curlers in her hair while she put the finishing touches on the sickest makeup look he had ever seen on her. As if entranced, he leaned on the door frame while he watched her expertly apply a thick coat of mascara to her eyelashes; she smiled at him through her round vanity mirror and he swore he could feel himself melt against the wood.
“Hey darling,” he said, voice all soft and gooey.
“Hey superstar,” she replied with a flirty tone. “Are you gonna come in so I can give you a kiss before I do my lipstick or nah?”
“If I ever say no to that, shoot me because I’ve been possessed,” he kicked the door shut behind him and hurried to wrap his arms around her middle. “You look gorgeous.”
“This isn’t my final look, I’m not even dressed yet.”
“Dunno, baby, the duckies are pretty metal,” he joked while placing little pecks on her lips. She laughed and swatted at his chest lightly, making the backpack that was perched on his shoulder slide down his arm towards the floor. “Here - I brought you a bunch of shirts, thought you’d like to have options.”
“Thank you! I’ll try them on when I’m done with my makeup.”
“Can I watch while you play dress up?” Eddie wiggled his eyebrows.
“No, perv, my Dad’s downstairs!” Dottie laughed with no malice. “But… you can let me do your makeup now and then you’re free to go get a snack while I take all this stuff out of my hair.”
“Aw, are you gonna make me look pretty, babe?” he batted his eyelashes dramatically.
“No,” she said with a wicked grin. “I’m gonna make you look metal.”
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Eddie was dying of anticipation as he sat at the Burke’s kitchen island, distracting himself by eating cheese crackers and talking to James. Dottie was being awfully secretive about her chosen look for the night, and he’d tried to look around her room in search of clues while she was painting his nails with her favorite black lacquer but quickly gave up when she grabbed her eyeliner pencil from her desk. Standing between his legs with her left hand gently placed on the side of his face to keep him still as she worked, he decided to let her do her thing in silence - he’d had too many run-ins with the thick pencil himself and did not want to risk an accident by pulling her focus away from her task.
For a brief moment, Eddie got to enjoy the feeling of his hands on her hips, keeping her close as she swiped the pigment on his waterline, but it was over all too soon for his taste. Once Dottie deemed his makeup perfect, she swiftly pushed him out of the room and locked the door behind him before he couldn’t even think of protesting about it. Defeated, Eddie went downstairs to commiserate with his girlfriend’s father (who was still unaware of the change in the teens’ relationship status) and James kept him busy with genuine interest and a few well placed questions about their plans for the upcoming show.
The young Munson boy was in the middle of listing the songs they’d chosen for the first half of their set when James lifted his eyes from his chopping board and looked at something over Eddie’s shoulder with a very surprised expression on his face. Confused, Eddie turned around and was suddenly met with his usually soft and adorable girlfriend looking like she’d come straight out of one of the magazines he kept hidden underneath his bed.
In the doorway between the kitchen and the living room stood an extremely nervous Dorothy Burke sporting dark eyeliner and deep red lipstick, her wilder than normal curls looking both frizzy and bouncy while she fidgeted as she waited for their opinions. She sparkled with bold silver jewelry that had been borrowed from her friends - a few of Gareth’s smallest rings, Jeff’s studded belt, and Donny’s chain bracelets -, and she was grateful to them for being so willing to help her put together a suitable look for the occasion. Two pieces from her own wardrobe were the only things she felt fully confident about wearing; the black suspender skirt and boots she’d worn for her birthday paired with new fishnets made her feel less strange in her own skin.
It was, however, what she was wearing on the upper part of her body that made Eddie feel like all the air inside his lungs had suddenly rushed out of his body. When he shoved a bunch of his t-shirts into his bag earlier, he hadn’t noticed that particular garment had sneaked into the mix, mainly because it had been a couple of years since he had last worn it. It was a simple top really, a white cotton baseball tee with black short sleeves just like Hellfire’s shirt, but  with his band’s logo printed in black at the front instead. The stylized letters spelling out Corroded Coffin now sat perfectly snug against Dottie’s chest, who was looking more and more apprehensive as silence stretched in the kitchen.
“Woah, honey, you look…,” James began, startled.
���Unreal,” Eddie completed, mouth suddenly dry.
“Shit,” Dottie shook her head. “I knew it, I knew was too much, I- I’ll go change really quick-”
“NO! No, no, are you crazy? This is- wow,” Eddie said, a huge grin spreading on his face. “You look amazing, like a- you look like you’re a Princess of Metal or something. Are you sure you’re not getting on stage with us?”
“I think I’ll leave that to the pros,” she said with a shy smile as her hands fiddled with the bottom of her skirt. “But are you sure this is okay? I have other options-”
“Honey, you look great,” James said, putting down his knife and walking around the counter so he could comfort her with a hug. “It’s just, y’know, different from your usual so we were surprised. But you look very pretty, I promise. You don’t like it?”
“No, I do, it’s just… I don’t know, it feels like I’m a poser,” she looked down at herself. 
“You’re not a poser,” Eddie scoffed. “You know the setlist front to back and you were the one who got us this gig. You’re literally our biggest fan.”
“I thought I was your manager,” Dottie joked. “Also don’t let Lee hear you say that, he’ll get upset and he loves you guys.”
“I can fight him for you, you deserve the top spot,” he said, making her snort. “He’s like 70 and is missing a leg, what’s he gonna do?”
“He’s a war vet! Have some respect for the man!” she gasped.
“I bet you could push him over if you wanted.”
“Eddie!”
“Alright, kids, no fighting veterans in this house, okay?” James said while taking off his apron. “I’ll go get the camera before you two head off - behave while I’m gone, please.”
Once he was back and with a new roll film in place, James motioned for them to pose for his impromptu photoshoot. Eddie was quick to hop back onto his stool, bringing Dottie closer to him with his arms around her waist. With him sitting down and her standing between his legs, their heights finally somewhat matched for once and the eldest Burke snapped photo after photo of the dolled up teens - first with big smiles, another one with their tongues out, a third one with the devil horns up, and the last one slightly out of focus as Eddie planted a big wet noisy kiss on Dottie’s cheek making her squeal as she tried to leap out of his embrace. James’ only comment was to offer copies for Wayne, and Dottie instantly knew by his lack of teasing that there was a potentially very embarrassing conversation in her near future.
“We good to go?” Eddie asked. “Gotta head to Gareth’s first to load the drums.”
“Yeah, I’ll go get your backpack and we can leave. Meet me outside?” she replied, disappearing into the living room.
“Come on, I’ll walk you out,” James said, guiding Eddie towards the front door. It didn’t come as a surprise to the younger man when he lowered his voice for a man to man talk. “You kids drive safe, okay? Call me if you need anything, don’t bother your Uncle while he’s at work.”
“Yes, sir,” Eddie said, uncharacteristically serious. “Donny’s gonna take over for me if I’m too tired to drive back, we have it under control.”
“Okay, good. I trust you, Ed. You go have fun, yeah? Have a great show.”
“Thank you, sir. We’ll be safe, I promise.”
None of them were exactly unaware of the deeper meaning of their conversation, especially since it hadn’t been the first one of its kind they’d ever had. Eddie felt equal parts grateful that James trusted him so much and ashamed that he was actively lying to his face every single time he saw him. He was so used to Wayne knowing that sometimes he forgot no one else did, and while he was on the same page as Dottie and they both agreed that they didn’t want to make things awkward with their friends just yet, he hoped they could tell James sooner rather than later. He’d hate to disappoint the one person who had so warmly opened the doors of his house to him before he even knew who he was and without an ounce of judgment.
Dottie finally joined them at the door and after a few quick goodbyes and loving hugs, the pair got into the van and drove off towards the first stop of their most anticipated adventure of the summer. Take that, Hawkins, Eddie thought. Corroded Coffin was officially a touring band, and he was confident nothing in the world could derail the night ahead of them.
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Indianapolis was not too far away from Hawkins, located only around 42 miles to the Southwest of the much smaller town. Corroded Coffin (plus Dottie, who was by then considered as much part of the band as the rest of them) had piled into Eddie’s van with their instruments and amps as they excitedly made their way towards their biggest gig ever. After a short argument that Eddie quickly silenced, Dottie secured her place as his co-pilot due to her knack for map reading, leaving the other three boys to sit in the back with Jeff acting as the official DJ for the ride.
Entering the city felt like a dream come true. As Gareth drummed on the window with his sticks, perfectly in tune to the songs coming out of the van’s speakers, Donny leaned forward to follow Dottie’s map over her shoulder, nervously watching as their destination grew closer and closer to her moving finger. It felt momentous as they saw the bar’s neon sign calling to them like a beacon, all five sets of eyes wide with anticipation as Eddie pulled into the parking lot behind the building. They sat in silence for a few seconds once he cut the engine and the radio was turned off, everyone’s heads reared towards the direction of the bar with elation and perhaps also a little bit of apprehension.
The Hideout was safe, a known place with familiar faces that cheered for them and supported their dreams even if no one else in their godforsaken town did. Here there would be no Dave with cold beers waiting behind the bar, no B.B. and Rudy telling stories, no Shonda’s cheek pinching once they were done, no Lee asking for a Judas Priest song before they packed their gear back into the van. Turning in his seat to look at his fellow band members, Eddie’s mouth split into a contagious grin in an effort to muster some collective courage.
“Well, boys. We made it,” he said, cringing at the sound of his own uncertain voice tone.
“So, what now?” Donny asked. “Do we start unpacking or…”
“Um, I think…,” Dottie said, chewing on her lower lip. “I think I’ll go in and see if Jessie is around? I talked to her last week and she said she would be here. She’ll tell us what to do.”
“I’ll go with you,” Gareth offered, quickly jumping out of his seat.
“Okay, we’ll, uh, we’ll get ready to start unloading then,” Eddie said, motioning for everyone to get out of the van.
“God, I need a fuckin’ smoke,” Donny muttered nervously as Dottie linked arms with Gareth and headed towards the sidewalk.
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Moore House was a quaint corner pub a few blocks away from the main IUPUI buildings in Downtown Indianapolis, and even though rain had been announced for later on in the night, the outside tables were beginning to fill up with tired and stressed college aged kids trying to let loose for the weekend. The new semester wasn’t scheduled to start for a few more weeks, but that didn’t mean activities at Indiana and Purdue had been reduced completely to zero; there were summer lessons to be taken for extra credits, early graduations to be celebrated, part-time and student jobs to be worked, and sport camps and clinics to be attended, and Moore House always made sure to offer a safe, fun, cheap destination for visitors and locals alike.
Gareth stared around the pub in wonder, absorbing the atmosphere while Dottie stood on her tiptoes searching for someone. There was a long bar counter in the middle of the room with wooden stools and a cash register at each end, a sizable number of booths and tables with people milling about and enjoying cold beers and various pub foods, and a low stage at the back on the right side of the building. The curly haired boy gazed at the flags and banners that decorated the room: cream and crimson for Indiana University, old gold and black for Purdue, and Hoosier pride everywhere you looked.
“Are we sure this isn’t a sports bar?” Gareth asked, eyes stuck to a table with a group of guys who looked like they would have been best friends with the Hawkins Tigers.
“It’s just a college bar, their campus is like 10 blocks away,” Dottie said, balancing on her toes. “Also there’s like a million bars around here, they need to attract people somehow and school pride always sells. Oh, there she is!”
Jessie the Night Shift Manager was standing right outside the kitchen door talking to another employee, her bold makeup and crimped hair instantly making Gareth’s eyes widen. Dottie grabbed his hand and led him straight to her, a warm smile spreading on Jessie’s lips as soon as she recognized the younger girl approaching her.
“Goddamn, teach! That’s a hell of a look,” Jessie said, pulling Dottie into a one armed hug. She was holding a clipboard on her other hand, a clearly borrowed bright pink scrunchie she hadn’t had the time to use yet secured around her left wrist.
“Wanted to look the part for the show,” Dottie shrugged. “This is Gareth, he’s Corroded Coffin’s drummer.”
“H-hi, how’s it going?” he said, a little bit dazed upon seeing Jessie’s snake tattoo wrapping around her upper arm.
“Hey, nice to meet you, dude!” she replied, putting her hand forward to shake his before she turned back to Dottie. “I know I told you last week over the phone, but congrats on your graduation!”
“You too! Any news about the job thing?”
“I’m still waiting to hear back from the lab but fingers crossed! If I have to spend another summer managing this kitchen, I think I’ll off myself,” Jessie joked. “Where’s the rest of the band?”
“Oh, they’re in the parking lot! Should we start unloading the van now?”
“Hell yeah! We’ve got a great crowd tonight, should be fun. A lot of people touring campus this week,” she said while leading them towards an employee-only backdoor. “You guys can come from the parking lot straight through here, I know your equipment is probably heavy.”
“For sure, thanks-” Dottie was saying before Gareth cut her off.
“Not a problem, I can carry heavy loads,” he grinned.
“Good for you, kid,” Jessie said, an amused smile gracing her lips. “Well, just let me know if you need anything. Come find me when you’re done, teach, I’ll get you set up at a table!”
“Seriously?” Dottie raised an eyebrow at Gareth as soon as they were alone again. “You can carry heavy loads?”
“Don’t,” he groaned. “I panicked. You didn’t say she was hot.”
“Who’s hot?” Donny asked, leaning against Eddie’s van with a cigarette between his lips.
“Jessie, the manager. She’s too old for you anyways,” Dottie said at large before going to help Eddie and Jeff at the back of the van.
“Says who?” Gareth argued.
“She called you kid,” she replied, not even looking at him.
“Shit, man,” Donny laughed. “It’s lost.”
“Ugh, shut up.”
Between all five of them, the members of Corroded Coffin plus Dottie made quick work carrying the heavy equipment inside, their constant back and forth through the backdoor making the bar’s patrons notice the commotion. A live show was always something to look forward to for the college aged students who frequented Moore House, particularly if they had a bottle of beer in their hands. College was a moment where people got to figure themselves out, and there was no greater feeling than discovering a piece of yourself you didn’t know was there before through the rush of a good (and free) show.
Eddie and Gareth began putting the drum kit back together while Jeff and Donny went back to the van to get the last few bits and bobs they’d need for the show; Dottie, on her last task before being dismissed as their roadie for the night, headed towards the bar to grab a few water bottles for her friends as she knew they’d be asking for a drink two songs into their setlist. Corroded Coffin might not have known what it was like to shed blood and tears on a stage, but they certainly could sweat for an entire crowd if necessary.
Because of the jitters currently racing through her body, Dottie did not notice there were two people staring straight at her from the other side of the bar, directly opposite from where she was waiting for Jessie to come back from the kitchen. A boy and a girl about her age were inching closer and closer to her, muttering amongst themselves curiously and trying not to startle her.
“It’s her, I know it is,” the girl said when she was within hearing distance.
“No, it’s not, just look at her,” the boy was saying, and Dottie would have turned towards them if not for the fact that Jessie had finally appeared, a pile of cold water bottles balanced on her forearms.
“Ooookay, here you go,” she said, tilting the pyramid into Dottie’s waiting hands. “If you need more, ask Pearl or Frankie, I’ve caught them up to speed now.”
“Thanks, I will!”
“Oh, also I set up two tables for you guys over there,” Jessie leaned over the countertop to point to two square tables pushed together near the stage. “Just, y’know, tell them not to aim the amps directly to that side or your ears will start bleeding two minutes in.”
“I think I’m immune to it by now, but thank you for worrying about my hearing,” Dottie laughed.
“Holy shit, it is her!”
Nothing could have prepared Dottie for the whiplash of turning around and discovering the gossiping couple were none other than Benji and Tracey, two of her old friends from when she lived back in New York. She was suddenly grateful she had her arms busy, because her first instinct had been to reach out for a hug before her brain caught up to her limbs and she remembered why she didn’t consider these people her friends anymore.
“Dorothy?!” Benji asked, confusion all over his face as his eyes raked over her image.
“H-hey guys, what are you doing here? I- I mean, how are you doing?” Dottie managed to get out, trying to school her expression into what she hoped was a pleasant face.
“I got into Purdue! We’re touring the campus,” Tracey said, proudly. “Oh my god, are you going to Purdue too? Or Indy? Do you live around here?”
“No, no, I’m… I’m here with some friends, we live in a different town. We’re just here for the show.”
“Well, you look like you’re ready for it!” Benji said with a dumbfounded tone. “What happened to your hair? It was so long before, we almost didn’t recognize you!”
I cut it myself with a pair of kiddie scissors at a gas station halfway through Pennsylvania, was what Dottie thought, but she wasn’t about to tell them that, lest they knew how brokenhearted she’d been when she’d left everything she’d ever known behind to move to Hawkins. There was an old wound opening itself in the middle of her chest, and she’d fight tooth and nail before they ever saw her bleed again.
“Just needed a change! You know how it is - new year, new me,” she laughed and the fakeness of the sound went unnoticed by the pair but not to her. “So, you’re both going to Purdue then?”
“Oh, no, just Trace,” Benji waved his hand as he spoke. “I got into UTA. Gonna do Civil Engineering actually, so you can thank your Dad for that one.”
“No way!” Dottie smiled, and this time it felt less fake. “That’s awesome, congrats. And you’re still doing Psych?”
“Yup!” Tracey beamed at the fact she remembered. “I’m so excited! I’m gonna move in with Howie so we’re looking to rent an apartment somewhere around here.”
“Oh, wow, you and Howie? Didn’t see that one coming.”
“No, ew, not like that,” she shuddered. “He’s going to Indy U. We’re just gonna live together, you know, try not to kill each other. Fun stuff.”
“Is- is Howie here too then?” Dottie asked, dread settling at the base of her stomach.
“Yeah, Jeanette and him are trying to find a place to park, they’ll be here in a sec.”
“Jeannie is here?”
“We don’t call her like that anymore,” Benji said, his tone playful but revealing of the fact that he thought it was stupid.
“Where are your friends?” Tracey asked, not aware that Dottie’s knees were flaking on her. “We can all sit together and catch up!”
“I- Sure, it- it’s that table over there,” Dottie managed to get out, pointing to it with a lone finger. “I need to do something first but you guys go sit and I’ll find you later!”
Without waiting for confirmation, Dottie launched into a sprint towards the backdoor, not stopping until she saw the parked van on the other end. She found Donny with half his body shoved inside the back, searching for something on the floor while Jeff peered over his friend’s shoulder on his tiptoes, arms heavy with carefully looped cable cords.
“He always does this!” Donny complained, voice a little muffled.
“We should get him a stick bag for his birthday.”
“He has a brown leather bag, he just never uses it because it doesn’t look cool but if he keeps losing these goddamn sticks and making me find them, I swear-”
“Woah, what’s the rush?” Jeff asked when he spotted Dottie bounding towards them.
“My friends are here,” she wheezed out, dropping the water bottles she was still holding onto the van’s carpeted floor.
“What?”
“My shitty friends from New York,” Dottie explained. “I just ran into them, they want to sit with me and catch up and I think I’m gonna pass out.”
“Okay, okay, come here,” Jeff pulled her into a tight hug. “Who are these people again?”
“Remember when I told you about my best friend Jeannie who kinda stole my boyfriend but not really?”
“That bitch!” Donny said, abandoning the search for Gareth’s second set of drumsticks.
“Yeah, so, her and three more people. Trace and Ben are being super nice to me which is odd as hell because they spent all semester not talking to me before I moved away, and apparently Howie is here too and he’s always been kind of a douchebag but I never cared for him that much and I doubt he cares about me either.”
“I know I’ve said this before but they sound like they suck,” Jeff said.
“They do, yeah,” she rested her head on his shoulder, arms wound around his waist. “What do I do? They already know I’m here, I can’t just disappear and miss the show.”
“Hey, look at it this way,” Donny proposed. “You won’t be able to talk that much when we start the set and as soon as we’re done, we’ll be there for backup.”
“Yeah! You just gotta survive like ten more minutes on your own.”
“That does not make me feel any better.”
“We’re playing Mötley,” Jeff said, looking down at her.
“What? There’s no way Eddie allowed that.”
“Oh, Ed was in no position to argue,” the two boys snickered over her head.
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll find out,” Donny said mysteriously before turning back to the van. “By the way, have you seen Gareth’s extra drumsticks?”
“Yeah, I put them in my door pocket ‘cause they kept rolling around the back,” Dottie said, unlatching herself from Jeff’s front and going to get them. “Here.”
“You hold onto them, he didn’t bring the holder.”
“I told him we were forgetting something!”
Feeling more confident after their pep talk, the trio made their way inside where they exchanged a final group hug. For good luck, Jeff said, and while no one knew if he meant it for the band or Dottie, the question went unasked. He was the first one to walk into the bigger room to take the rest of the cables to their friends setting up on stage while the water bottles changed hands once more, this time settling on Donny’s arms.
“Hey,” he said, before they finally had to face the music. “You’ll be okay. You have us now.”
“I know. Thanks, Don,” she smiled, leaning to kiss his cheek and leaving a bright red print on his skin. “Oh, no, I forgot I had lipstick on!”
“Leave it,” he laughed, walking backwards and pushing the doors open with his shoulder. “It looks badass!”
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Dottie felt a little bit like a lamb walking towards the slaughterhouse as she approached her table, now occupied by friends from what felt like a previous lifetime. Tracey and Benji were sitting next to each other, each of them holding a beer bottle and doing what one could only assume was gossiping as they looked around the place and the people mingling around. Next to them sat Jeannie, hand wrapped around a tall cocktail with a practiced air of nonchalance undercut by the tiniest bit of hardness in her stare. Rounding the group was Howie, already wearing an Indiana University shirt and cap he’d probably gotten during his tour earlier on in the day.
“Hey everyone,” Dottie said, smiling at them when she approached.
“Dorothy?” Howie said, getting to his feet to pull her into a hug. “Wow, what happened to your hair?”
“Oh, I just… I chopped it off! Do you like it?”
“Love it!” Tracey was saying but a voice rose above hers, cutting her short.
“You look like you’re wearing a costume,” Jeannie sneered before also getting up and hugging her former friend.
Being friends with Jeannie had never been an easy task for anyone who had been brave enough to try. She could be lovely if she liked you, could even be considered caring on occasion, but she could also tear you apart just as effortlessly with a few well-chosen words. Jeanette Sanders was the undisputed leader of their friend group, and she carried that title with pride, not allowing anyone to challenge her or her authority if they wished to remain in her graces. Tracey, on the other hand, had always been known as the genuinely kind one of the bunch, if a bit of a pushover. Whenever Jeannie lashed out, Tracey was always there to patch up the wounds she left behind in her wrath, never complaining about it but, most importantly, never defying her.
Howie, however, was a different story. In true Golden Retriever fashion, he had been deemed too dumb to be Jeannie’s second in command but too useful to cut by the time they’d entered high school. He had the most money, the biggest house, and as soon as they reached the age to own a license, the only one who had unlimited access to a car thanks to a very generous gift from his wealthy Criminal Attorney father. That is not to say that the only reason they were friends with him was what he could purchase or what he owned; after all, they’d known each other since they were six, but it was a well-known fact that they put up with his consistent silly frat-boy behavior because he just made plans go so much smoother if he was included in them.
What Howie had going on with his dumb rich kid lifestyle, Benji matched with his stereotypical still-in-the-closet theater kid attitude. Benji was smart, calculating and quick-witted, he was unrivaled in the Fine Art of a Comeback, and had secured his place as Jeannie’s right hand man a long time ago by sheer virtue of knowing who everyone was, and most valuably, what everyone wanted. He could be incredibly manipulative and two-faced, but he was also the one who was the most honest with Jeannie, constantly calling her out and keeping her in check whenever he thought she went too far.
Regardless of this, Dottie had to admit that if you had asked her what she thought of them a mere year earlier, she would have never described any of her former friends with such harsh words. Instead, she would have told you that Tracey was loyal to a fault, tender and compassionate with everyone around her, and that Howie was funny in a boyish sort of way, clumsy, hardworking, and entirely too selfless regarding his material possessions. She would have labeled Benji as self-assured and opinionated, never shying away from being in the spotlight and most likely to be destined for stardom, and Jeannie… Jeannie would have simply been called her Best Friend.
“It’s nice to see everyone,” Dottie said, swallowing her pride and sitting at the table, her back turned to the stage. “Are you excited for college? Tracey was telling me you two are moving in together.”
“Oh, yeah!” Howie said, leaning back on his chair. “We haven’t found a good place yet, but I’m hopeful. Do you live around here?”
“No, no, I’m just here for the show,” she shrugged. “I live in a different town, we’re like 30 or 40 minutes away I think.”
“Where do you live?” Jeannie asked.
“It’s called Hawkins, it’s to the Northeast? It’s really small, you probably haven’t heard of it.”
“But it’s here in Indiana?”
“Yeah, still Indiana!”
“At least you’re close to Indianapolis,” she said, like she would have dropped dead if she had to move anywhere that wasn’t a major city.
The sudden feedback of a microphone cut through the noise in the pub, and Jessie, busy stationed at the till, motioned to a coworker to lower the lights and cut off the ambient music. On the stage, the boys cringed at the shrill sound, Donny immediately lowering the volume of an amp at his side. Jeff looked sheepishly at the crowd, one hand on the neck of his guitar, the other resting on top of the mic casually.
“Hi,” he simply said, his easygoing tone making people turn towards them with curiosity. “Our name is Corroded Coffin, we’re from Hawkins, Indiana, and we’d like to play a few songs for you tonight if you guys don’t mind.”
Dottie turned around in her seat, completely ignoring everyone else at the table and feeling all her frayed nerves turn into joyous pride as she saw her friends on stage like they were always meant to be. Jeff stood confidently in the middle, wearing a white Metallica t-shirt he’d cut into a muscle tank, ripped jeans and a plaid red shirt tied at his hips. His chains glinted as he turned to look at his band members and Eddie nodded once, giving him the go ahead so he could start playing the intro to Dio’s The Last in Line.
Even if Dottie knew the setlist front to back and had seen them play each song repeatedly throughout the last few months, she found she was still happily stunned at the talent her friends displayed every time they got to play rockstars for a while. We’re a ship without a storm, cold without the warm, light inside the darkness that it needs, yeah, Jeff sang, and if the silence in the room was anything to go by, Corroded Coffin knew they had everyone’s attention on the palm of their hands.
“Huh,” Benji said, surprised. “Was not expecting that from how they look.”
We’re a laugh without a tear, the hope without the fear, we are coming…
“What were you expecting?” Dottie asked with a knowing smile.
Benji had no time to answer as Jeff strongly yelled the word home, the rest of the band following his lead and diving into the rest of the song with purpose and childlike joy. A couple of excited hollers were heard through the bar as Jeff launched into the second verse with the usual intensity he always performed with; Eddie joined him once he reached the chorus, happy to be the background vocals to his much more operatic-inclined friend.
They took no breaks at the end of the song, launching straight into Iron Maiden’s Flight of Icarus to a similar reception from the crowd, much to their surprise. Dottie sang along without a care in the world, entirely too delighted to care about the people around her when her boyfriend and her best friends in the whole world were finally living their shared dream and gifting everyone one of the best performances they’d ever done. Moore House was no Madison Square Garden, but to Corroded Coffin it might as well have been anyway.
Once they reached the last two songs in the first half of their set, Dottie anxiously leaned forward in her seat knowing this would be Gareth’s make or break moment. Perched behind his drum set, his next task ahead was to ace Metallica’s Motorbreath and Mötorhead’s Overkill back to back, and while he felt more than capable of rising to the occasion, there was still the nagging feeling that something might go wrong at the worst possible moment. He breezed through Motorbreath with ease, having played it several times to great success at The Hideout, but to go straight into Overkill with no time to shake off the tension in his arms had him all strung-out, and he had expressed as much in the van during their trip to Indy.
“Get it, G!” Dottie yelled in an effort to be supportive, and he absolutely heard her in the lull between the two songs, letting out a crazed laugh as he launched into Overkill’s intro.
Eddie wasted no time to jump in and the rest of the boys followed, giving it their all to get the crowd hyped up before they took a small water break. Maybe it was the manifestation of Gareth’s worst fears, maybe it was the fact that he’d gone all out for the last two songs and wore the wood out, or maybe it was simply an unlucky coincidence, but right at the last second, during his last hit, one of his drumsticks fractured into two pieces with a loud crack that made even Howie wince. Donny hurried to Gareth’s side and they shared a quick talk before the drummer stood up and started power walking towards the exit, most likely headed to the van in search of a new pair of drumsticks.
“We’re gonna take a short break, let you guys get a breather and more drinks, take a piss if you need it,” Eddie said into his mic with a cheeky smirk. “We’ll be back in a sec with more songs, thank you for the great vibes so far.”
“This is fun,” Howie said, polishing off the rest of his beer as Jeannie scoffed next to him.
“Where the fuck is he going,” Dottie muttered to herself distractedly as she watched Gareth bolt past her. “G! G! Jesus Christ- Gareth!”
“I’ll be right back-” he was yelling back to her when he saw her bend down and take his extra drumsticks out of the side of her boot. “Oh, thank God!”
For the first time that night, Gareth realized Dottie wasn’t alone at their table and after shooting the strangers a quick hello, he awkwardly turned towards his friend, feeling very much observed by them and not in a particularly welcoming way. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question; she simply pressed the sticks into his hand and mouthed the words “Ask Jeff”. He was about to say something when Jessie the Night Manager appeared suddenly, shoving more water bottles into his arms.
“You’ve got great taste, teach!” she said to Dottie before turning to Gareth. “Band sounds really good!”
“Thanks!” he said, eyes widening and eyebrows disappearing behind the floppy curls on his forehead.
“Better get back on stage, hot stuff, break’s about to end,” Jessie winked and quickly disappeared behind the bar again.
“Wow,” Dottie said, teasing him. “Didn’t think you’d actually start drooling.”
“I’m gonna need you to be quiet while I restart my brain,” he breathed out, entirely too flustered to come up with any defensive statement. “You said you talked to her last week, can I have her number?”
“No. Go up there and keep being charming until she gives it to you herself! You got this,” she pushed him towards the stage; he twisted in her hold and grabbed the back of her head with one hand to plant a wet, noisy kiss to her forehead.
“I love you, thank you for these!” he said, jogging back towards his bandmates.
“Love you too! Don’t break them, that’s your only extra pair!” Dottie yelled after him and he waved the drumsticks over his shoulder to let her know he’d heard her.
“Well,” Jeannie said with a dangerous glint in her eyes and her arms crossed. “Looks like Little Miss Dorothy isn’t so little anymore. Didn’t take you for a groupie.”
“I’m not their groupie,” she frowned. “Those are my friends, I’m just being supportive.”
“Really? How did you meet them?” Tracey asked, curiously.
“We went to school together. I had Political Science and Chemistry with Gareth, we were lab partners for a few months.”
“You’re not dating that guy, are you?” Benji laughed. “He seems nice but it looks like he’s in love with that waitress.”
“Ew, no, he’s my best friend,” Dottie said, a fond smile on her face. “They all, actually.”
“Best friends, huh?” Jeannie said pointedly. “In six months? You moved on fast.”
“Guess I learned that from you,” she shrugged, turning around once more to watch the rest of the show leaving Jeannie to fume in silence.
“Alright, everyone, who’s ready for some more?” Jeff said into the mic, capturing the bar’s attention once more. “You good to go, Gare?”
Instead of answering, Gareth simply launched into an intro Dottie was very familiar with, but she was confident it hadn’t been included in the setlist she’d seen in the van. They were supposed to open the second half of their show with a Megadeth song, she’d heard Donny argue for it, so what did Eddie think he was doing joining his drummer and plucking along to Van Halen’s Hot for Teacher? It was even more surprising when he approached the mic as Jeff took over guitar duties; the eldest member of Corroded Coffin scanned the crowd with a mischievous smirk until his eyes found his girlfriend before he leaned into the mic.
“Oh, man, wait a second,” he began, turning towards Donny and hamming it up for the performance. “What do you think the teacher’s gonna look like this year?”
Dottie let out a loud laugh disconcerting everyone at the table, but when she locked eyes with Eddie and he winked at her, she knew that Gareth had, as she’d suggested, asked Jeff about the uncomfortable situation going on offstage and had been thoroughly briefed on the issue at hand. It was so like them to change their setlist to make her feel better, and yet so unexpected that it left her a little teary. With a simple gesture, something no one else would have noticed except her, they’d managed to remind her that she had their support no matter what happened or how far they were from her.
As the show went on and the boys played a very funky rendition of Whitesnake’s Saints an’ Sinners, one of Gareth’s favorites, Benji and Tracey began getting more into it, cheering along with Dottie, swaying and headbanging in all appropriate places. Howie looked like he was honestly enjoying himself during Helter Skelter, even going so far as to sing along, elated that there was at least one song with lyrics he actually knew in the setlist. The band took a few seconds to let Jeff drink some water before they played Van Halen’s Little Dreamer, showcasing the boy’s best asset: his lovely crooner voice, full of body and emotion.
By the time Corroded Coffin reached their last song, Moore House was packed with the patrons that had been sitting outside when they’d first arrived at the bar. A light irregular shower had forced people to either go home or seek refuge inside, and many had gladly chosen to stay for the rest of the show and were now being treated to a high energy rendition of Quiet Riot’s Cum on Feel the Noize to close out the evening. During the song, there was a moment where Donny and Eddie, who were goofing off with each other, turned to look at Jeff and Gareth who were also playing along to their antics from the other side of the stage.
Miles away from home, in front of a crowd that had only just met them but seemed nonetheless enthusiastic - or at least not disgusted by their presence - the quartet had never felt more at ease when performing. Even if Moore House wasn’t The Hideout, they knew they could get used to it just as easily if given the chance.
“So,” Eddie said, once the applause at the end of the song had quieted down. “Normally that would have been our last song, but today’s a special day for us. You see, Moore House, today’s the very first time we’ve played outside of our hometown. Little Hawkins has had quite the monopoly on us for the last few years,” he joked, making a few people chuckle along with him. “The truth is, we wouldn’t be here without a very special someone in the audience. You might have heard her screaming her ass off like a banshee all night - that was pretty metal of you, princess.”
It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving her floating between the tables as Dottie realized Eddie was talking about her. Charmed like a snake, she sat a little bit taller, eyes glued to the tender smile her boyfriend was not so secretly affording her. It didn’t matter if anyone else saw the hearts floating above his head - he was so in love with the short haired girl sitting a few feet away from him that he was willing to bear all the jokes their friends had been making at his expense for the past week every time they practiced the surprise they had planned. Just the look on her face was worth all of it, and so much more. Donny motioned for her to stand up and she did so, one hand wrapped around the back of her chair for support.
“That’s our banshee!” Gareth said, gleefully.
“Actually, that’s our manager,” Jeff chuckled into his mic without missing a beat. “And she’s the one that got us this gig so you’ve been enjoying the show, please give it up for her.”
Jessie finger-whistled loudly from behind the till, leading the amused applause that broke out while Dottie marveled at the audience happily following Jeff’s commands. It was undeniable that Corroded Coffin had always been charming, but seeing how strongly a crowd of college aged strangers reacted to them had her feeling incredibly bittersweet at the fact that their path to glory was being cut short so early by themselves of all people. Maybe she could convince them to see their college adventures as a hiatus rather than a permanent break. Four years would pass by quickly, wouldn’t they?
“To show our gratitude to our most Darling Dottie, our friend and manager, let’s end this on a high note, shall we?” Eddie redirected everyone’s attention back to the stage. “This has been Corroded Coffin, from Hawkins, Indiana, and we have one final question for you, guys-”
No fucking way, Dottie thought when she heard Jeff start playing their surprise song. There’s no way. They’d never do this outside of Gareth’s garage, I must be totally hallucinating-
“Whatever happened to Saturday night?” Eddie sang into the mic, exchanging positions with Jeff and taking the lead singer spot in the middle of the stage. “When you dressed up sharp and you felt alright?”
“Oh, I love this song!” Benji said, in true theater kid fashion.
“You used to love Rocky Horror, didn’t you?” Tracey said, remembering an old theater ticket Dottie used to keep around as a bookmark.
“I still do, yeah,” she breathed out, a dazed smile etched onto her face.
Eddie wasn’t the best singer in Corroded Coffin. He knew this very well and didn’t have any issues admitting to it, especially when what he lacked in the voice department, he knew he more than made up for with his guitar skills. When he’d brought up the idea of closing the show with Hot Patootie/Bless My Soul as a thank you to Dottie, everyone else had quickly agreed that while the gesture was lovely, the song did not fit in with the rest of their planned set. The boys had then begun suggesting different songs they knew she liked, but Eddie had remained undeterred. In the end, the only reason he’d managed to crack them was because he’d arranged the sax break into a new guitar solo that had really excited Donny upon hearing it, and so the rest of the band followed suit in changing their opinion.
“Go, girl!” Benji pushed Dottie towards the stage when the solo started and Eddie kneeled near the edge looking right at her as he played. “He’s waiting for you!”
With red cheeks and embarrassed giggles, Dottie let herself be guided towards the stage by both Benji and Tracey, turning back to look at them dancing with one another when she felt their hands leave her back. Shifting her focus back on Eddie and only Eddie, Dottie let herself imagine a future where they got to do this all the time, and instead of having to play covers of well known bands, Corroded Coffin would be allowed to play their own songs - the ones she knew were written into notebooks stashed in Eddie’s closet and Donny’s old toy chest (now turned into a junk trunk after donating all his action figures to his little sister Giulietta to marry off to her Barbies).
With your arms around your girl you’d try to sing along, it felt pretty good, woo, really had a good time, Eddie belted before he moved away and sang the chorus along with Jeff at this mic, eyes never leaving his girlfriend’s beaming figure at the bottom of the stage. He had never felt so in the zone performing before: he had a cheering audience that consisted of more than five drunks, his girl was dancing and singing along with the crowd, and his best friends were killing it even after Gareth’s little drumstick mishap. At the start of the night Eddie Munson had been sure he would never be a rockstar, but at that moment he couldn’t deny he certainly felt like one already.
“Good night, everyone!” Jeff said while they played themselves out. “You were fuckin’ awesome!”
Most people cheerfully clapped for them before going back to their chosen alcoholic beverages for the night, the speakers sparking back to life with classic rock to mask the chattering and gossiping. Eddie took his guitar off his shoulder and hurried off the stage, wrapping his sweaty arms around Dottie who squealed in delight when he lifted her up and shook her around excitedly.
“Okay, okay, calm down!” she laughed, hands coming to hold onto his shoulders for dear life.
“Thank you, darling, holy shit, thank you,” he said, his voice full of emotion as he squeezed her sides. “That was the best moment of my life, I’m so fucking thankful.”
“You guys were so good! That was your best show ever, I’m so proud of you, babe.”
“Yeah?” he grinned at her, finally moving his face off her neck. “You have no idea how much I wanna kiss the shit out of you right now but the guys are totally gonna notice.”
“We can sneak down to the lake after we drop everyone off,” she whispered, mischief in her eyes.
“Fuck, I’m so in love with you,” he groaned, eyes closed and face tilted towards the ceiling. “I’ll- I’m gonna take my shit back to the van and I’ll be right back or else I’m gonna do something stupid and get us kicked out of the bar.”
“I’ll go get us drinks!” she announced, loud enough so that the rest of the boys could hear her. “Beers for everyone okay?”
“I’ll go with you!” Gareth said, springing up from where he was squatting while he unplugged a pedal. “Leave the kit here, guys, I’ll come get it when my arms aren’t about to fall off.”
He offered his hand to Dottie who happily took it, and together they went to order beers for everyone as a prize for a job well done. Corroded Coffin’s Big Show had been perfect and a celebration was in order, even if their table had been co-opted by a bunch of teens none of them really felt like partying with. Sense of danger lulled by the excitement of the evening and the fact that she was now flanked on both sides by her best friends, Dottie relaxed and finally let her guard down, content on enjoying the festivities and listening to the chatter around her as she often did when hanging out with the boys.
In retrospect, she should have known better. Hawkins had changed her, softened her, made her more trusting, more vulnerable. She was easy prey now, and as much as she tried to hide the gaping hole in her chest every time she looked at her former best friend, Jeannie had always been an expert in sniffing out blood in the water. Dottie really should have known better.
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The Corroded Coffin boys might not have been stellar students during their time at Hawkins High, but their social status as the school’s freaks had taught them a very valuable skill: all four of them could spot a lion dressed like a lamb from miles away. Introductions had barely been made before they recognized Jeannie for who she truly was, all fake smiles hiding a look of contempt she just couldn’t - or wouldn’t - mask in its entirety. It was almost laughable how easy it was to pinpoint how important she thought she was, and also just how much it bothered her that none of them seemed to fall at her feet no matter how much she flicked her long hair over her shoulders.
Jeannie sat silently at the table, becoming more and more upset as the minutes ticked by and no one so much as turned to look at her. As Tracey talked to Donny sitting next to her, gushing about the show and his performance, Eddie stretched and then dropped his arm on Dottie’s chair, pulling her closer to him without the rest of the group noticing. She looked up at him for a brief second before she leaned forward with the excuse of grabbing a napkin, letting their thighs touch as she sat back down. They both turned towards Tracey with bashful smiles, and upon hearing her friend praising the lamest band she’d ever heard, Jeannie felt a ball of anger grow and lodge itself in her throat. Time to hunt.
“How would you even know if they’re good or not? You only listen to Hall & Oates, Trace,” she laughed dismissively, finger tracing the rim of her glass with a practiced smug expression.
“You do?” Donny asked Tracey who had suddenly gone mute. “My sisters like them too, I think we have all the albums at home. Do you have a favorite?”
“Um, I don’t know, they’re all good…,” Tracey said, squirming uncomfortably under the sharp sight of her friend.
“Oh, come on, you love H2O,” Dottie said, matter-of-factly. “You used to listen to Maneater constantly.”
“Oh, oh, here she comes, watch out, boy, she’ll chew you up,” Jeff sang softly, making Tracey’s mouth lift up in a thankful smile.
“Show off,” Benji said, but it was clear to everyone he meant it as a harmless joke.
“You guys listen to Hall & Oates?” Howie asked, surprised.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t we?” Eddie shrugged. “We all love metal the most, but we’ll listen to almost anything once. How do you think we got this one into our music?”
“Actually, Donny was the one to corrupt me with that Helter Skelter cover, so if you want a teacher, that’s your guy,” Dottie smiled, remembering old conversations with the gentle boy who helped her navigate her first D&D session.
“Why does only he get the credit for corrupting you?” Gareth complained, shoving her lightly.
“Because he lets me borrow all his mixtapes whenever I want them.”
“And I don’t? I’ve offered you my tapes a million times but you never take any.”
“That’s because you’re obsessed with making me listen to Anthrax and I’ve told you like ten times that it’s fucking noise.”
“Woah, woah, woah,” Eddie said, raising a hand to stop her. “That’s sacrilegious, princess, you can’t say that.”
“Can’t I have my own opinions?”
“Yes, but if they’re wrong, we’re legally obligated call you out on them,” Jeff said, bottle of beer halfway up to his mouth.
“Et tu, Jeffrey?” Dottie asked, hand to her chest dramatically making Eddie snicker next to her.
“You’re fun,” Benji declared. “I like this new Dorothy.”
“Me too!” Howie agreed.
“New?” Gareth frowned, baffled. “What do you mean new? She’s always been like this.”
It had been a long time since any of the boys had had questions about Dorothy Burke’s past. As months went on and their friendships got stronger, they’d gotten to learn about her extensively and she about them in return. The five of them were a well-oiled machine by then; banter flowed easily, diner and takeout favorites had been memorized to perfection, and comfort was given before it could even be asked.
It was strange for them to think of a moment in their lives before they knew Dottie, because it truly felt like they had known her forever. She’d opened up to them about why she was the way she was sometimes, her past experiences and her fears shaping her into the fiercely loyal yet deeply afraid of being lonely girl they had come to love and appreciate. No one could imagine her being something other than who she had always been - that shy tenderhearted teen looking for connection with a bag full of snacks and a set of borrowed dice - so hearing that Dottie hadn’t always been their Dot was a little shocking, to say the least.
“It’s not that she was very different,” Tracey tried to explain. “It’s just that she used to be more… reserved I guess?”
“She was a loser.”
“Jeanette!” Benji scolded her. “That’s rude!”
“What? You know I’m right!” Jeannie defended herself. “She never wanted to go to any parties or bars, never misbehaved, never drank. I’m surprised she even had a boyfriend while she was such a prude.”
“I- I was just busy-” Dottie muttered, embarrassed in front of her friends and feeling her hidden wounds rip open once more.
“Yeah, busy being a loser! You never wanted to go anywhere with us, the only time we could get you to break a curfew was on Tyler’s birthday.”
“If all that makes her a loser I guess we are losers too, aren’t we boys?” Eddie said, dropping his hand from the back of Dottie’s chair to her shoulder protectively. “I mean, shit, I had to do my senior year three times.”
“I had a panic attack the first time I smoked weed and I’ve never touched that thing since,” Jeff added.
“I still go to church every Sunday morning with my Nonna,” Donny raised his glass as if he was toasting.
“The only party we went to during senior year was the one Dot made us go to, and we had to leave because she got into a fight,” Gareth said, laughing at the memory.
“Actually, Eddie got into a fight,” she clarified, feeling brave with her friends by her side. “I just finished it.”
“Well, you did blackmail the guy, so I think 50% of that fight was on you,” Donny reminded her.
“Fuckin’ Andy, man,” Eddie shook his head. “I had a bruise on my ass for days.”
“She almost broke his nose so I’d say you guys are even now,” Jeff finished, turning to the four people staring at Dottie like she had grown two heads. “You should have seen her, it was awesome.”
“You did all that?” Howie asked, almost with reverence.
“Are they gifting fucking lobotomies in that shitty town of yours or did you suddenly grow a personality so you could lie to get new friends?”
“That’s so mean, Jeane-” Tracey said, but Dottie interrupted her.
“You know what, Jeannie? You’re right. I was a loser,” she said in an even tone, aware that she was bleeding out around a shark. “I’ve always been a loser, and that didn’t change when I moved to Hawkins just because I went to a party once. I’ll always be a loser, I know that, but at least I’m not trying to pretend like I’m cool when I’m actually fucking miserable all the time.”
“Holy shit,” Benji muttered, but no one paid any attention to him.
“Don’t act all high and mighty with me, Dorothy. You may have new friends now that don’t know the real you, but I do. Let’s not lie to ourselves here, you’ll always be that know-it-all nerd who used to hide under my wing for protection.”
“Protection from what?” Dottie scoffed. “I was always Jeannie’s boring little friend from preschool. No one gave a shit about me, you made sure of it.”
“Don’t say that,” Tracey said, frowning.
“Save it, Trace. You were all pretty clear about where you stood when Jeannie started dating Tyler,” she reminded them, and at least Benji and Tracey had the decency to look ashamed. “But thank you, really, because if it hadn’t been for you guys ignoring me, I would have never spent all my lunch periods alone in the library with Mrs. Randall, and I would have definitely never gotten into Michigan without her help.”
“You got into Michigan?” Tracey asked after a beat, eyes shifting over towards where Jeannie was sitting.
“Princess got a full ride and everything,” Eddie said, proudly.
“Well, shit,” Benji said, grinning. “Can’t really say I’m surprised, but congrats! If anyone was going to get in, it was you for sure.”
“You’re such a fake bitch, Benji,” Jeannie turned to him, seething.
“Hey, not my fault your GPA sucked.”
“Okay, guys, come on, we’re losing the plot here,” Howie tried to cool down the room to unsuccessful results.
“You applied to Michigan too?” Dottie asked Jeannie, gears slowly turning in her head.
“Thought it’d be fun,” she shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I’m going to CSI anyways.”
“Crime Stoppers?” Donny said, confused.
“What?”
“CSI, that’s Crime Stoppers International, right?”
“No, dumbass, Staten Island,” Jeannie said through her teeth, humiliated and furious.
“Isn’t that… sorry, I’m not trying to be mean here but they don’t even ask for your SAT scores to get in there,” Jeff frowned, quickly realizing that had been the wrong thing to mention.
“Once I’m a registered nurse no one will give a shit about my SAT scores. And I get to live with my boyfriend in the city if I go to CSI, so that’s a plus. I’d be stupid to ever leave NYC.”
“You’re still dating Tyler?” Dottie wondered curiously.
“Of course I am. He’s so in love with me it’s actually pathetic.”
“Wow. Does he know you talk about him like that?” she cringed.
“Why do you care?” Jeannie said, smug. “It’s not like he’s still your boyfriend.”
“You’re right, he’s not,” Dottie stood up, brushing Eddie’s shoulder with her hand and feeling very thankful for the path her life had taken. “Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.”
As she walked towards the door marked with a “Women” sign, she could hear Benji and Jeannie at each other’s throats, Howie still trying to calm them down to no avail. The heavy metallic door closed behind her back and, for the first time since they’d arrived, Dottie felt like she could breathe normally. She approached the sink furthest away from the entrance and began washing her hands with cold water, staring at the suds disappearing down the drain like she was cleaning up her own blood after a fight.
When she’d joined the Hellfire Club and met Eddie, Gareth, Donny, and Jeff, she knew things would be different. She was still fearful at the time, of course; a lifetime of disappointment doesn’t vanish just because you’ve found a few good friends, but even if she’d realized a long time ago how truly lucky she’d been to find her people in the Middle of Nowhere, Indiana, she’d never actually compared her new friend group to her older one. At least, not until now. Four friends with four clear positions, and her as an addendum. Eddie and Jeannie as the leaders, Gareth and Howie as the class clowns, Donny and Benji as the seconds in command, and Jeff and Tracey as the sensible ones.
And Dottie. Always just Dottie, loser, shy, boring Dottie, attaching herself to a group and tagging along to adventures she hadn’t planned or dreams that had never been her own in the first place. Except… well, that wasn’t the case anymore, was it? She’d gotten them the gig in Indianapolis, that had been her creating the adventure. She’d convinced them to go to that fateful party at Jason’s house, they’d gone to prom as a group because she mentioned she wanted to go, they’d gone swimming in the lake in their undies because she’d agreed to it. And that’s not to mention the countless times they’d gone out for ice cream because she’d suggested it, or the movies they had rented because she wanted to see them.
In return, she’d seen The Exorcist because Gareth had wanted to, she had accepted the job Donny had offered because he wanted to work with her all summer, she’d actually jumped into the lake in her underwear because Jeff had encouraged her to do it. With the boys she wasn’t tagging along. They always made sure of it. She was wearing Eddie’s shirt, Jeff’s belt, Gareth’s rings, Donny’s bracelets. They constantly and consistently included her, not just by inviting her to things, but by actually making the effort to make her feel part of them. And she really was. With them, she had always been, from day one and without having to ask any questions.
“Don’t talk to me, I just want to pee,” a voice broke her train of thought, and Dottie only managed to see Jeannie’s long hair swinging before she went into a stall.
Dottie considered leaving the bathroom, going back to her table and sitting down with her friends, maybe even ordering a basket of fries to share and pretend like nothing had happened, but something inside stopped her. As much as she hated to admit it, there was a part of her that still cared for Jeannie and if this was going to be the last time they’d ever speak, she didn’t want to leave things like this. Jeannie had been her best friend a lifetime ago. It wasn’t right to pretend like that shared history had never existed.
She moved to the side to dry her hands as Jeannie came out of her stall and went to wash up, biding her time until she figured out what she wanted to say. Jeannie was visibly furious, the little vein in her neck straining against her skin as she chewed on the same kind of anger she’d been carrying inside since they were kids. Jeannie used to be so furious all the time. She’d break all the toys in her vicinity, whether they were hers or borrowed, she’d bite and pull on people’s hair, and she had to be constantly put on timeout as a child so the teachers could get her to settle down for a few minutes.
Their pre-school teacher had been at her wits end the day she sat Dottie next to Jeannie, hoping that the much quieter and well-behaved little girl would be able to influence the terror that disrupted every single one of her classes. The two kids had gotten along just fine during drawing time, but when they were let out to the playground for a break, Jeannie pushed Dottie off the slide, making her fall knees first onto the gravel below. Dottie had then cried and cried, her tender knees oozing blood down her legs and staining her white socks, and Jeannie, upon seeing their teacher approach, also began crying uncontrollably.
What happened next surprised everyone, mainly because Jeannie wasn’t used to being kind to other kids, but the tiny five-year-old sat eerily still in the nurse’s office next to a sniffling Dottie, holding her hand while Nurse Olivier cleaned and bandaged the hurt child. Afterwards and unlike herself, Jeannie said she was sorry, and Dottie, much like herself, forgave her because “that’s what friends do”. Jeannie had spent the rest of their lives pushing Dottie and holding her hand afterwards. Why would she do that if she wasn’t utterly terrified her oldest friend would eventually leave her, constantly testing the strength of their friendship much like a child who can’t quite understand their own emotions just yet?
“Sorry, can I ask you something?” Dottie said, looking at her former friend through the mirror. Upon receiving nothing but silence, she continued. “Why nursing?”
“What?”
“It’s just… You wanted to do Civil Engineering. You talked about it with Benji all the time, you wanted to apply to colleges together. You even asked my Dad about it.”
“Yeah, well… I changed my mind,” Jeannie said, bitterly.
“But why?”
“Because Engineering is not a girl’s career.”
“Says who?”
Jeannie didn’t look at Dottie as she closed the tap and shook her hands to get rid of the excess water, the latter moving out of the way to let her access the paper dispenser. Her silver bracelet shook as she dabbed at her hands with the rough material and Dottie was suddenly struck with a memory so old that for a second she thought she had made it up as an eight-year-old.
They’d been waiting to be picked up after a long day of school on a Thursday, which meant that it wasn’t James the one Dottie was waiting for - it was Uncle Johnny, coming to take her to her swimming lessons at the community center near his home while her Dad was stuck working extra hours. Jeannie’s mom arrived earlier than him that day, bringing her daughter a present: a small Tiffany’s bag with two matching bracelets inside to commemorate the day she had finally divorced Jeannie’s dad. Dottie had been much too young to understand the intricacies of adult relationships and how they affected her friend at the time, so she’d only cooed and awed at the gorgeous piece of jewelry while hiding a pang of quiet jealousy at the fact that she would never be able to match anything with her own mom.
Two days later during her monthly Saturday Crafting Afternoon with Aunt Mary Elizabeth, she told her what had happened with an innocence that tugged her Aunt’s heartstrings before she tore her craft bins apart searching for supplies to make her niece feel better. Between small breaks that consisted of chocolate milk, homemade cookies, and endless hugs, the two of them worked on a ton of bead bracelets, one for each member of their little makeshift family. James’ bracelet was a gaudy little thing with the word DADDY spelled with a 4 instead of an A because they had run out of the correct letters and Mary Elizabeth was nothing if not incredibly creative. Dottie was confident that if she decided to snoop through his bedside table’s first drawer, she’d find the plastic accessory still rattling around with the rest of his junk.
“Don’t- don’t fucking do that,” Jeannie said tiredly, finally turning around and facing her. “You always do that and it pisses me off.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t act like you understand anything about my life!”
“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to,” she said with genuine remorse in her tone. “I just wanted to know why, I didn’t mean to-”
“Didn’t mean to what? To rub in my face that you got into a good school and I didn’t? I’m so fucking sick of you, Dorothy,” Jeannie said in calm anger and Dottie wished she’d just yell at her. “Just when I finally thought I’d gotten rid of you, you show up to embarrass me like you’ve always done. Stop pretending like you’ve ever cared about me or my life, because you haven’t. You’re a goddamn liar and you know it.”
“I’ve never lied to you in my entire life, Jeannie,” Dottie said, trying not to bleed out in her attempt to find peace.
“God, do you ever shut up about how good you are? About how nice you are? You were always the Golden fucking Child, and I’ve always been trash compared to you. Oh, Dorothy is gonna do something great with her life, you should be more like her! She’s so kind, so polite, so goddamn quiet,” she said, voice mocking before it switched back to scathing. “Fuck you.”
“What are you talking about? I’ve never said anything like that to you! Actually, you were the one who was always treating me like trash!”
“Oh, give me a break,” she laughed. “You didn’t need to say it, everyone else did it for you. You were the teacher’s pet who always got away with murder, and I was the stupid fuck-up who was too much like her Dad and couldn’t get into your fancy college. I might be a bitch, but at least I’m honest.”
“Jeannie, are you even listening to what you’re saying?” she argued desperately. “I’ve never thought of you like that, I swear! I literally spent my entire life wanting to be more like you - you had a pretty house, and all the toys you wanted. And you had a mom! Everyone wanted to be your friend, and I never understood why you picked me instead of anyone else-”
“I knew it, I fucking knew it, I always knew you were a jealous bitch-”
“God fucking damnit, I loved you!” Dottie admitted, clenching her fists in frustration. “I loved you so much, and I wanted to be like you because I thought if I was, it would make you love me back! You treated me like shit all the time, and I still loved you. You were my best friend, Jeannie.”
Jeannie might have looked like she had just been slapped but Dottie knew she didn’t understand the meaning behind her words, not when she had only figured them out after they’d tumbled out of her own mouth. Feeling strangely lighter, she watched as her oldest friend’s eyes changed from furious to scared, as if she was that five-year-old holding her hand while Nurse Olivier bandaged her bloody knees again. Dottie understood then that it had never been about her or their friendship, but she’d just served a shark her corpse on a platter and she needed to get some closure before she left the sanctity of the girls’ bathroom or else she’d always wonder what could have been.
“Why did you apply to Michigan?” Dottie asked, eyes full of unshed tears.
“...Because you were there,” Jeannie muttered, defeated. She crossed her arms before she continued. “After you left I asked Mrs. Randall about you and she told me you were early admission. I was just so mad at you, I- I don’t know. I never told anyone else you had already gotten in when I decided to apply.”
“Why did you switch to Nursing? You could have picked literally anything else.”
“Tyler’s pre-med at Cornell. You know how his family is, and I obviously couldn’t get in with him, so this was my only choice.”
Tyler’s family, while perfectly nice, supportive and polite, had always stressed to their sons the importance of getting into the family business. Not all of them were doctors, but everyone who had gone to college in the last three generations had gotten a degree somewhere in the Health field, and most importantly, they had also married a medical professional. Tyler’s dad was a generalist, his mother was a psychiatrist, his uncle was a surgeon who had married his assistant nurse.
They never made Dottie feel like she had to change her career path to be with Tyler while she was dating him, and yet there had always been a silent expectation put upon their son to “get serious” further down the line. Jeannie knew what this meant for her own relationship once they went off to college, so she decided to make two households very happy by trading in her Civil Engineering dreams for a future that included a shiny RN badge and a nuclear family who lived in a friendly cul-de-sac.
“They talk about you sometimes, you know?” Jeannie said, surprising the other girl. “They say you were always nice, ask me if I’ve heard from you. I think Flynn misses you the most.”
“He’s a good guy,” Dottie said, smiling. “You should ask him for advice on college stuff, he helped me out a ton.”
“Yeah. Maybe I will.”
“I, um… I should get back to my friends,” the short haired girl said pointing at the door with her thumb. “We have a long way home, so…”
“Yeah, no, I get it,” she smiled, a little wistful. “That guy with the long hair, uh…”
“Eddie. His name is Eddie.”
“Is he good?”
“He’s the best,” Dottie’s smile grew bigger at the thought of her boyfriend. “They all are.”
“They seem nice,” she said, falling quiet afterwards.
“Goodbye, Jeanette.”
“Goodbye, Dottie.”
Jeannie stayed in the bathroom needing some space to process their final goodbye, surrounded by New York Dottie’s remains while Hawkins Dottie walked back to the table. Eddie, as usual, was the first one to notice his girlfriend’s turbulent expression, instinctively putting out a hand to touch her as soon as she was in range for him to do so. He pulled her into the space between their chairs, fingers splayed against the low of her back protectively.
“You okay?” he muttered quietly, but everyone’s eyes were on them regardless.
“Not really,” her lips curved into a small pout. “Is it okay if we go?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Eddie downed the last of his beer and sprung out of his seat. “We just gotta, uh-”
“We’re on it,” Jeff said, also getting up. “You two go get the van closer to the door so we can load the drums, it’s supposed to start raining soon.”
“I have to talk to Jessie about your payment, she told me-,” Dottie said, but the sound of more chairs shuffling cut her off.
“I’ve got it!” Donny said, putting on his battle vest while heading towards the till.
“I’ll go get my stuff,” Gareth announced, unceremoniously jogging towards the stage to disassemble his drum kit.
“Okay then, uh,” Dottie turned towards her former friends to find them already standing up and heading towards her.
“I’m so sorry,” Tracey said, throwing her arms around her for a comforting hug. Neither of them knew who needed it more. “I’m sorry about everything. It was really lovely to see you again.”
“You’re glowing, girl,” Benji said when it was his turn to get a hug. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”
“Show was great, guys,” Howie said to Eddie and Jeff, giving them both a boyish pat on their shoulders.
“Thanks, man. See you around.”
Dottie wrapped her arms around herself while Eddie led her towards the van, never letting go of her hand while he guided the vehicle closer to the double doors that led to the backside of the building. The smell of an incoming storm filled the air as he lowered his window and lit up a cigarette before turning to her with a knowing look on his face.
“D’you wanna talk about it?” he asked, only the rumble of the van’s motor filling the quiet of the night.
“I… I think I used to have a crush on her,” Dottie said, coming to terms with something that deep down she had always known but had never dared to think about.
“Uh-oh. Should I be worried?” Eddie pouted, succeeding in his goal to make her giggle.
“You’re silly,” she moved closer to him, ready to put their argument behind and Eddie obliged, throwing an arm around her. “The show was so good. I’m so proud of you.”
“Yeah? You liked our surprise?”
“Are you kidding? I loved it. You’re so talented,” she leaned up to kiss him but couldn’t reach his lips, giving him a peck on his jaw instead. “We have to come back, see if we can get you booked again.”
“I love you,” he said, staring down at her completely and truly lovesick. “You’re amazing. Best manager in the fuckin’ world.”
“I love you too, Ed. Thank you.”
“The hell you thanking me for, darling?”
The van’s back doors opened with a loud noise startling them apart as Gareth and Jeff pushed the rest of their equipment onto the carpeted floor, quickly securing it and climbing into the backseat. Donny rushed out of the building with an unlit cigarette in his hand and an envelope in the other, waving it in the air proudly. The first thunder of the night mixed in with their cheers as he got in and Eddie pulled out of the parking lot.
“Hey, guys,” Donny said, watching Jeff count their earnings. “You wanna go to McDonald’s?”
“Oh, fuck yes,” Eddie said, turning the corner and heading towards the Golden Arches glowing in the distance. “We need fries, don’t we, princess?”
“Yes, please,” Dottie agreed. “And milkshakes.”
“Dot, your old friends sucked ass,” Gareth said, tone conversational but still a little upset on her behalf as he leaned over her seat to throw his arms around her shoulders.
“I don’t know. They weren’t always that bad,” she mused, hands coming to hold his forearms crossing over her collarbones. “You guys are much better though.”
“Hell yeah we are!” Donny said, smug.
“Hey, Gare… I think you might wanna look at this,” Jeff said, barely contained mirth staining his serious tone.
On his hand was a napkin with girly writing scribbled with a blue pen on it, right underneath the Moore House logo. It read: hey hot stuff, sorry to disappoint. I would have totally given you my number if you were older, but sadly you’re not. Keep drumming like that and make me regret having morals when your band becomes huge. XO, Jessie.
“Turn back!” Gareth yelled dramatically, pulling at Eddie’s shoulder. “In the name of love, turn back!”
“Sit down, Bono, she’s four years older than you. She’s not interested,” Donny cackled, forcing him back into his seat.
“Yeah, man, she just wanted to let you down gently,” Eddie said, joining in on the teasing.
“That’s my future wife you’re talking about, you assholes,” Gareth said, knowing full well he didn’t have a chance with Jessie the Night Manager but having fun pretending he did.
As the rain kept falling and their good natured ribbing continued while heading to McDonald’s, Dottie quietly basked in the knowledge that she was safe swimming on open waters with her best friends. She swore right there and then that she was willing to die for each and every one of them, because she knew they were much more likely to be on the surfboard next to her, fighting for their lives together instead of being the ones attacking her.
Previous chapter of her life finally closed, she peacefully leaned against her seat as Eddie pulled into the McDonald’s drive thru. NYC Dottie is dead, long live Hawkins Dottie, she thought, unabashedly staring at her boyfriend as he ordered enough fries and milkshakes to last them the whole trip back home.
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